


Loup’s Build-a-Snape

by snakeling



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Harry/Snape - Freeform, Humour, M/M, Plot What Plot, Rimming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-08
Updated: 2005-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeling/pseuds/snakeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry brings a book back to Snape and learn a few things about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loup’s Build-a-Snape

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fit [Loupgarou1750's criteria to "Build-a-Snape"](http://loupgarou1750.livejournal.com/26398.html).

Harry knocked on the door. He knocked again, louder. Finally, a very uninviting bark, maybe bearing some resemblance to “Come in!” was heard from inside. He pushed the door, but had to slid in with difficulties when the door would not open more than a foot. He put his carefully wrapped package on the nearest pile of books, then closed the door behind him.

Once inside, Harry got a good look at the Potion Master’s living quarters. Books were piled up in every nook and cranny, forcing any visitor to execute careful manoeuvers to avoid knocking into a pile and possibly sending a priceless tome flying. Harry took back his package and tried to move the pile that was blocking the door. Unfortunately, there was no place elsewhere, and in the end, he only shifted the pile by an inch.

“Potter. What do you want?”

The voice was a lot thicker than usual, and Harry sent a glance to the glass Snape was sipping from. The liquid in it was dark green, but Harry could not remember any potion of that colour.

“What is it?”

Snape looked disgustedly at his glass.

“Crème de Menthe. Albus is the worst gift-giver ever. Soooo doesn’t know his drinks. I ask for absinthe, and I get this.” Snape snorted. “What do you want? I’m working.”

He made a big gesture in the direction of the desk, nearly showering Harry with Crème de Menthe in the process.

“Correcting essays?”

“Fourth years. Absolutely dreadful. The best Potion Master in Europe, and what do I do? I’m teaching dunderheads about the proper way to peel their shrivelfigs. All that talent, wasted.”

Harry stifled a giggle and schooled his face blank. He raised the package he was still carrying.

“You left this in the staff room. I thought you would like it back.”

“Not mine,” Snape said airily. “I never receive any package. And I wouldn’t leave it in the staff room either.”

Harry coughed delicately. “I wrapped it myself. I thought it wouldn’t do for students to see their professor walking with _that_ in his hands.”

Snape put his glass back on the desk and pushed a long strand of hair behind his ear.

“Merlin, Snape, don’t you ever wash your hair? And what’s that white stuff?”

“Mind your own business, Potter. And I wash it every Sunday, when I shower. Now what is this?”

Aghast, Harry said, “Run that by me again, will you? Do you mean to say that you only wash _once a week_?”

Snape glared at him. “None of your fucking business, Potter. Now tell me what this is?”

Harry gave the book to Snape wordlessly, still stunned by Snape’s revelation. Snape tore into the paper.

“Oh.”

Harry recovered suddenly and snickered at that.

“Yes, ‘oh’. So not the kind of literature I’d been associating with you.”

“What, you think I’m asexual? What do you think I wank to?”

“Not gay erotica, that’s for sure. I’d never have thought you were bent.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Just what are they teaching kids these days? Potter, I’m the poster boy for limp-wristed drama queen. What did you think my orientation was? Assuming you do think, of course.”

“Just goes to show.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Show what?”

“That the saying ‘takes one to know one’ isn’t accurate.”

Snape snorted. “It certainly is. I knew you were queer even before I caught you on your knees in front of Malfoy during your seventh year.”

Harry gasped. “You… you… but you never said anything!”

“Of course not. You were regular as clockwork, every Thursday in the abandoned classroom at the back of the third floor corridor. I wasn’t going to say anything when I could watch, was I?”

“You pervert!” Harry exploded. “You wanked to the memory of two schoolboys getting it on!”

Snape winked. “Oh, not always to the _memory_, I assure you.”

Harry was speechless. Snape winked again, and leered at him.

“Now that you’re not a schoolboy anymore, maybe I could do more than just watch.”

Harry scowled. He was very tempted to refuse, but he’d had to do with his right hand for seven months now, and his cock enthusiastically told him that it loved the idea of another human being.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

Snape showed the back door. “This way.”

Harry preceded Snape to the door. He yanked it open and entered the bedroom, stumbling on yet another pile of books. Harry turned towards Snape and tugged his robe open, while simultaneously trying to map Snape’s tonsils with his tongue. They only broke free when the need for oxygen became pressing.

Harry shrugged off his robe and removed the rest of his clothes with alacrity while Snape grabbed the hem of his own robe and took it off in one movement. He tossed his slippers off and yanked off his y-fronts — still gray, Harry noticed. He wondered whether it was the same pair as in _that_ memory. Then the underwear was off and Harry’s blood completely left his brain to lodge in his cock while he stared lustily at Snape’s genitals.

That cock was _huge_. Ugly and twisted and red, almost purple, except at the place where a hex had bounced off, leaving a white scar behind. But it was so big that Harry wondered how it would all fit in his arse.

Harry fell down his knees and began to worship this magnificent cock. After a few unfortunate attempts to fit it in his mouth, Harry said regretfully, “I want you, in me, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to take it.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! On the bed on all fours, Potter.”

Harry’s arse clenched reflectively at that, but he obeyed quickly, sinking into the soft sheets and matress. He was expecting a finger or two, so the sensation of a tongue licking his arse took him by surprise. Harry moaned loudly.

“Where did you learn that?”

Snape raised his head a second. “Madam Edna’s. Best whorehouse in Knockturn Alley.”

Snape returned to his task. By the time he actually inserted a finger, Harry was so relaxed he couldn’t remember his name. Four fingers and a lot of lubricant later, Harry probably would have willingly joined the Dark Lord if Snape had asked him.

Harry grunted in protest when Snape’s fingers and tongue left him, then he grunted in ecstasy when that huge, ugly, wonderful cock began to sink into him. Harry instinctively pushed backwards and Snape grabbed him at the hips, painfully, to keep him in place. A few minutes later, Snape was in to the balls, and Harry had never felt so full — certainly not with Malfoy, who had been a little shorted by nature in that department.

Snape drew almost all the way out, then pushed in again forcefully, drawing a long moan from Harry. He did it again and again, until Harry thought for sure that his arse would split in two and his cock would explode. Then Snape reached under Harry’s body and grabbed his cock. Harry’s world exploded in white and black fireworks. He vaguely felt something liquid filling him and a warm body smothering him into the sheets.

When Harry came back to his senses, he shoved Snape off — he wasn’t that heavy, but still — then he curled up in Snape’s arms and said, “Never leaving this bed.”


End file.
